When It Rains
by Dirge for the Dead
Summary: x- "When you're suffering, you feel like you're the only person in the world who's going through something so terrible. But right now, there are probably hundreds of other people like me who are crying over the loss of a loved one. Zim... I miss him." -x


**Dirge for the Dead signing on.**

***1:31 AM***

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Haven't done Invader Zim fan stuff in a while... This thing wrote itself, I swear to God. It's 5:03 in the morning, and I'm just writing. It might turn out good. Iono. Tell me watcha think.

Title taken from a Paramore song- When It Rains.

I own nothing.

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It was kind of funny, how you never really noticed anyone until they were gone.

Gaz remembered Dib mentioning that to her a long, long time ago. Gaz was about eight while Dib was ten, and the two siblings had been watching a soap opera in which the lead character, who no one ever noticed, died, and everyone turned up at her funeral. Gaz had only snorted when he presented this peive of information to her.

Fast forward seven years.

Gaz was fifteen. She had gotten a scholarship into art skool a bit aways from Dib's high skool. Her father had decided that they were distracting his work, and moved them into a small, crappy flat a block away. Now, it wasn't neccasarily a bad flat; it was simply the flat of someone making fair money in a city that calls their apartment crappy simply because they can. Gaz was that type of person. Dib was grateful for it and acted fine about the move, but then again, he acted fine about everything. Stupid, happy-go-lucky bastard.

Dib had, of course, kept up with his old habits. Although Misterious Mysteries had been canceled a bit after the christmas incident, he continued to watch it and take notes on it. Force of habit, he said. Just like how he would still stalk Zim, although he wasn't much of a threat anymore, and how he would continually and obsessively check under the bed for robot monkeys. And Gaz would still threaten him, tell him off, and send him to the hospital about twice a week.

All in all, nothing much had changed. Gaz remembered thinking once what would happen if the two of them were actually normal, and what would happen then? Then again, who really cared. Not Gaz, that's for sure. Gaz rarely cared about anything.

And then, a week and a half ago, she had gotten the news that her older brother of two years was dead.

How had that happened?

He hadn't been killed in a fight with Zim, as was expected. He wasn't mugged and left for dead in an alley way, like people said he would be. He hadn't been murdered by a bunch of kids in his class, like he was worried he would have been.

He had been in a car accident.

What a perfectly normal and boring way to die.

Gaz found it hard to adjust. She found herself turning on the TV to VCR, which still had the Misterious Mysteries tape in it. She would always go up to his room to scream at him, but stop dead and let her hand fall just before she was about to knock down the door. She never took that tape out.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one. How many times had Jessica and Zita edged Chunk on to go beat the tar out of Crazy Boy, only to remember he was gone? How many times had Zim walk over to Dib's usual lunch table to jeer at him, only to notice that it was void of anyone, Dib and not Dib? How many times had Professor Membrane come up with a way to convince his only son to go into Real Science, only to remember that he was dead?

Dead.

It was hard to think of Dib like that. Dead. It was such a simple word. Usually, people used longer words to describe him. This one wasn't even two syllables. No one could really wrap their head around the fact that Dib, the town crazy, was actually gone. For good.

The funeral wasn't the best. It wasn't big and white, it was simple. Plain. A few flowers here and there, but overall, very basic. Gaz liked to think Dib would like it that way. He didn't seem like the big-huge-funeral type of thing.

Gaz had come dressed in her usual attire, but had taken the liberty of wearing new combat boots; her old ones were falling apart. She was surprised to see almost the whole town there. Heck, even Zim and Gir were there! She had just stood there, feeling a bit strange, before walking over to Zita and demanding to know why the whole town was at her older brothers funeral.

"I'm not really sure, Gaz." Zita replied, looking down. Gaz was surprised she had gone a sentence without saying 'like', and even more that she knew her name. "It's like, we don't know what to do with ourselves anymore. Like, he was all we had or something? You know, when someone's gone and they're just... gone..."

The two stood there awkwardly. Gaz knew exactly what she was talking about.

Zim came up to her after the funeral. He found her at a coffee shop, black eyeliner smeared and dark mascara lines running down both cheeks.

"Gaz-human?"

"Zim."

"What is wrong? Why is there black goo dripping down your face?" He paused, reaching forward and poking her cheek. "You are not bleeding, are you? Pathetic human-"

He went silent at a glare from the teenager, flinching slightly.

"Shut up. Just shut up." She turned back to her coffee, which didn't seem to be touched and was going cold. Zim sat down across from her.

"Come. Spill your puny brain-worries out to Zim."

She was startled by the fact that he seemed to actually care. She hid it well, though, behind a cold stone face. "Nothing."

"Nonsense! There must be a reason as to why your eyes are bleeding." Zim prodded. Gaz sighed, glaring again, before sniffing.

"I dunno. I just. Um. I. Well..." She was never good at speaking unless it was threats. Her public sociability had only shrunk over the years, and she rarely talked unless she was threatening. "I guess I just... I miss him, Zim."

Zim glanced up from his twiddling claws at this statement. Gaz rarely acted like she cared about anybody, let alone her brother.

"I guess I loved him. It's hard not to, I mean, because even though I was a complete, total BITCH to him," Gaz snarled at this, "He went and acted like he cared. Dammit, Zim, he stood up for me no matter how mean I was to him! I just... I just..."

Zim didn't move to comfort the sobbing girl. He didn't even look up. Human emotions always confused him. No matter how much he read about them, how much he studied, humans were a mystery to him. A total, complete mystery. Especially Gaz; he wondered how someone could be so intimidating and cold, so outgoing, yet so shy and emotional at the same time.

"When you're suffering," Gaz started slowly, "you feel like you're the only person in the world who's going through something so terrible. But right now, there are probably hundreds of other people like me who are crying over the loss of a loved one, feeling just as much or maybe even more pain than I am."

"That's true."

"I guess the worst thing is that I've never been nice to him in my life. Not even when I was a baby. I bit him hard enough that Dad had to give him a fake finger. I didn't even have teeth yet." Gaz sighed.

"The Dib wouldn't want to see you wallowing in misery, though." Zim spoke up, looking away from his purple haired companion. "Dib wouldn't want that."

It was out of character, yes, but Gaz could see how he was right. She wiped her eyes and took a sip of coffee, making a face at the taste. Zim realized that she never really liked coffee, it was mainly just for show. Maybe she liked crying in pastel coffee shops.

Several minutes past before Gaz was comfortable with talking again. "We're moving."

"Because of Dib's death?" Zim asked.

Gas shook her head, scowling. "No. Dad got a new job in a bigger, better city. It was never be about me or Dib and it never will." She took another sip and a few more minutes passed, "But I'm going to rebuild my life. I think I might like to have a boyfriend. You know, get out of the teen-angst mode."

"Dib-worm would like that."

"You know what Zim?" The teenager laughed, a bell-like sound, for the first time in her life, leaning back in her chair and tossing her coffee in the trashcan behind her. "I think he would."

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I think of Gaz as someone who would go into art. But that's just me.

As for the 'christmas incident', I certainly hope you all know what I'm talking about.

Crappy ending. It wrote itself. So sue me. I got the characters hideously OOC. Oh well. I'm bored and insomniac-ish. I'm also in a death-mood. This reminds me of my PaSR thing a couple months back.

Enjoy. Comment. Please. Thanks.

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**Dirge for the Dead, signing off. **

***6:24 AM***


End file.
